


small incestuous circle (c)

by Effei



Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love/Hate, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effei/pseuds/Effei
Summary: I want to show you planetary nebula.
Kudos: 6





	small incestuous circle (c)

**Author's Note:**

> lena|emma.  
> tw: self-harm.  
> drabble was written before 'defy me' came out.  
> emma deserved better.
> 
> *Aldebaran is the brightest star in Taurus and generally the fourteenth-brightest star in the night sky.

It all starts with Emma (Lena deliberately refuses to use long 'Emmaline' given by her mother and used by her newly acquired sister). It starts with Emma and her sleep deprivation (her whites are like the surface of Mars: red and dry; she looks lousy and lost; she says that she hasn't slept in four days; Lena believes her). It starts with Emma and her absolute inability to tough it up and move on (Lena can't judge her for it; there’s no need for a pot to call kettle black). It starts with Emma and her futile attempts to escape (the dead scare her far more than the living).

Lena finds her sitting in the kitchen at half past four in the morning (scattering of moles on the bare shoulder — a dark constellation of Orion in a milky white sky — catches her eye). Anxiety wakes up inside: it's the middle of November and Emma's wrapped in something thin, not warming at all; stolen lab coat is dirty and damp, drenched with water, sticks to the sunken belly. For the first time in forever Lena doesn't want to berate or shriek or yell. She doesn't purse her lips in displeasure, although she's used to spending her insomnia in the no one's company (no cats were allowed in the apartment, and she had no desire to get a mute and boring golden fish).

_There you are._

Lena wants to say that everyone is looking for her, even wants to call _him_ _(_ _o_ _r_ _her_ _)_ and reassure everyone who is worried that everything is fine (there won't be even a dozen of those who care, but they still exist, for their microcosm this is already a victory). And then she notices how the uninvited guest's left leg trembles (she's unhealthy thin – skin covered with bones and veins, a living corpse smelling of wax and sweet candies with orange filling). Emma stains the bog oak floor with dripping blood; Emma cuts herself with a parin knife, in her kitchen, and eats Nutella like nothing's happened (Lena notes that she's left-handed; Lena assumes that her tongue tastes like salt and copper, but doesn't want to test the theory).

Lena attends to the cut on the inner side of the thigh (next to the stitches of past, already healed, horizontally even, permanently fixed memories), Emma sits quietly and obediently, talks about how Mars collided with the Earth, tore out a piece of the mantle and that is how the Moon was created. Emma doesn't tell it to her, she speaks to someone in her own head (apparently, many tenants have settled there over the years; religion says ‘open your heart’, but in Emma's case it’s forcibly opened skull, so now she can't control uninvited guests, even if she wants to, so she talks with them about celestial objects and plays a role of a hospitable hostess).

It's dripping water that sucks all the ability to speak from her throat like a vacuum cleaner, makes her mute. Emma stares at the warm, filtered water with the concentration of a cat; no words left even on the tonsils. She stretches out her streaked with sweetness fingers but hesitates to touch; Emma's afraid. And then suddenly ( _click_ ) she switches to another story about the fire (that had been set so she could escape from the place chosen by her sister, the one with high walls and smiling personnel). And if there's Juliette (Ella?), there's also him. As if they are one undivided whole; as if it always has been that way. Emma caustically calls him “daddy’s disappointment”; Lena can't resist curving her lips approvingly and it doesn't escape how Emma's eyes are cautious, deep blue and beautiful. Lena still gets used to the idea that someone more dangerous and cruel than Warner has appeared in their vivarium. Lena smiles wider, but she's alert: she remembers how badly Nazeera got burned with Emma, because she was too ready to help the 'poor-broken-innocent girl', she doesn't want to step on her rake. She has enough of her own.

Lena doesn't want to think that they (her and Emma) have something in common besides crazy parents, belonging to the overthrown totalitarian regime of government and a love of candies that have no real oranges inside, only chemical colorants. And is it even possible to compare? Her broken heart, which doesn't know what it wants (to hang _on him_ or hang _him_ ) and Emma's unclouded hatred, deep, like the Mariana Trench (water surfaces are closer to her than star veil, so the comparison seems more appropriate). Their point of contact is only in the object itself. The sophisticated shape of a non-love triangle with obliquely crookedly collected corners that barely touch each other, its shape recognized only at a long distance.

"May I stay?"

Lena knows that it's nothing more than a courtesy question; she has no real choice in saying no or yes.

"Just don't burn my apartment if you feel like leaving, please. I spend too much time painting the walls."

Against the Mars-red whites of the eyes huge pupils look like black holes. Lena thinks Emma might've taken something before the unfriendly visit. Lena thinks that sleeping pills can have a side (lethal) effect, but she still hands her a glass of orange juice (no pulp) and goes with the flow.

Since insomnia eats holes in both of them and the sky is covered with thunderclouds (Emma says that if it weren't for this, she would show her Aldebaran*), they have no much of a choice but to sit down and watch Alfred Hitchcock's movies. The fact that A.H. was one of his favorite directors, along with del Torro, Kubrick and Rossellini, is not for the discussion in the early morning. Lena thinks that this is a perverted tribute. The only thing missing is a hundred-year-old whiskey nearby and a pack of hand-made cigars: then it would be enough to close your eyes and imagine that he is still here (God knows people like that don't know how to just die and go to Hell as they should).

When screen flashes black and white credits, Emma, who's gratefully wrapped herself up in warm knit sweater after hot bath (her hands and feet still cold under the blanket), finally falls asleep. The sleeping pill doesn't kill her, only sends to the kingdom of Morpheus for a few hours. Lena listens to shallow breaths and even beating of the heart; exhales with relief (no corpses in the bedroom, blood stains on the kitchen's floor are more than enough of adventures for one day).

Lena thinks that every time that they've met Emma looked lost and alien, no matter how hard everyone around tried to pretend that everything was fine, as if Emma didn't understand at all why she was there, as if her beloved Universe had mixed up the addresses and thrown her into the wrong galaxy and left her no instruction how to live among this life form. And everyone around demanded-demanded-demanded to behave (you can't kill people just because they looked at you the wrong way; you can't drive anyone crazy; you need to talk to strangers kindly; be silent about what you're really capable of). And if “as you should” plan wasn't working, there always was plan B (new pied-à-terre with white walls, kind medical staff and strict rules). At least Juliette (Ella?) didn't leave Emma to drown under the water, where her loyal guard-dog could watch over her.

Emma’s still a foreign object in their flimsy ecosystem, which is already crumbling under their feet. Ties don't last longer than two years; maybe Juliette (Ella?) would be the next one to confirm the theory herself; she would plunge into loneliness and a broken heart full-speed and crawl back to Emma, begging her to help; or maybe it will be him, _Lena wants it to be him_.

In the morning (it's late afternoon outside the window), Emma makes a brunch for two. Kitchen easily becomes her favorite place in the whole apartment (the blood stains on the bog oak had been carefully removed by Lena at half past eight in the morning). Distorted techno is heard from the stolen headphones (Emma has no concept of a personal space) as she makes an omelet by Paris' special recipe. Lena recognizes a neat crescent on the black porcelain bottom of the plates, sprinkled with withered greens: she, too, was once treated with it (an eternity ago).

Emma asks Lena to tell Ellie (Juliette?) not to worry (sooner or later they'll be here and there's no way to deceive a walking lie-detector); Emma says that she's not in the mood for revenge (for now), she only wants to try to live in piece, as far away as possible. And that it's better not to look for her, when she wants to she'll return home (it's ideally that at that moment, in order to avoid another scandal, brother dearest not be home).

Lena says that Europe is a great place to get lost and find yourself again (she can't drink her own experience away, she can only pass it on to those in need).

"I'll come again, okay? I want to show you planetary nebula."

Orange candies remain on the table.


End file.
